Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,24

of it that were glossy against his jeans and navy long-sleeve. It had dried on his gloves too.

Rather than seeking solitude in the garden, he followed the raised walkway back to the main room of the house and banked right, heading for the panels that had been pushed aside to join the house to the garden.

And almost ran straight into Cal.

His younger brother stopped dead, narrowly avoiding the collision. “You good?”

Daimon nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He looked down at Cal’s hand and stilled as his gaze caught on the blue script that tracked along the inside of his brother’s right forearm.

His favour mark.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “It can take me to the Underworld, right?”

His heart missed a beat and thudded hard against his chest, his breath stuttering from his lips as he waited, the need to find Esher blazing back to life inside him, stronger than it had been in the garden before Cass had come to him.

Cal placed a hand over the ink. “It can, but I don’t really have the strength to use it right now… and if I did, I’d be the one going.”

Daimon lifted his gaze to lock with Cal’s.

For once, his brother looked serious.

Cal’s fingers tightened over his arm, pressing into his flesh. “It’s my fault he went. I should have stopped him.”

“I can bring him back, Cal.” Daimon reached for his brother’s hand, filled with a need to rip it from his arm and read the words written on his skin, a gift from Hermes. He stopped just short of touching his brother, labouring for breath as he saw how close he had come to grabbing him. He flexed his fingers and eased them back, swallowed and looked into Cal’s eyes. “I need to bring him back.”

“I know.” Ares’s deep voice rolled over him like a soothing wave, chasing the cold from his veins.

Daimon looked across at him, his brow furrowing.

“I know,” Ares repeated and raised his hand, ghosted it over Daimon’s shoulder, the closest they could come to touching each other without risking injury. “But you know he wouldn’t want you there.”

He did, and it was hard to swallow that bitter pill.

Esher had turned on him when he had tried to stop him from entering the gate, his other side firmly in control. That side of Esher would fight him if he tried to reach him, would believe he was trying to interfere with his hunt and would lash out. His brother would hate himself if he hurt anyone in his family, especially Daimon. He knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier on him. He needed to find his brother and bring him back.

To the only home they had right now.

Ares sighed, his broad shoulders lifting with it. “Father has legions scouring the Underworld for the wraith, thankfully to assist Esher rather than capture him and bring him in for breaking into the Underworld again. All we can do is wait for someone to find Eli and therefore Esher and for Dad to send word, or for Esher to capture his prey and come home.”

Daimon forced himself to nod.

It wasn’t enough for him, and it pained him to pretend that it was. He kept his eyes off the mark on Cal’s arm, deeply aware of it and the power it held, that it could take him to the Underworld.

To his real home.

The place where he belonged, where his power would no longer be a problem.

“You need to take five?” Ares canted his head, concern warming his dark eyes as he stared into Daimon’s.

Daimon blew out his breath and nodded, grateful for the fact his brother could see that he was struggling, that this was all becoming too much for him and he needed to get away for a while. He wanted to be here for Esher, keeping Aiko company and keeping the place in order, waiting for him to return, but being here was a constant reminder that Esher was missing and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“No more than an hour or two, okay?” Ares’s eyes gained a hard edge that quickly faded back to concern. “You’ll be careful?”

Daimon nodded again. “Anything feels off, I’ll step back here.”

Ares still looked reluctant to let him go.

So Daimon stepped without saying another word, landing on the broad white terrace of his home on the steep side of Victoria Peak, Hong Kong spread in all its towering neon glory below him.

Rather than feeling relieved to get away from the mansion and finally